


The Cure

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crack, Fanfiction, Hiccups, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: "Okay," John said decisively, manning up. "How do we do this?"
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 30
Kudos: 93





	The Cure

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get in gear for some longer writing challenges so here’s a short PWP fic to warm up.

The door to John's room hissed open, almost thudding into the wall, and John looked up, startled. Whoa, someone must have thought at it really hard to make it do that.

Rodney leaned in the doorframe, but it wasn't the sexy kind of lean. That was John's thing, not Rodney's. No, it was more of a desperate, about-to-collapse slump, with Rodney barely supporting himself.

"Hey," John said, jumping up. He took a step towards Rodney. "What's wro–"

"Hic!" Rodney said, or rather, hiccuped, despairingly. He staggered forward and collapsed into John's arms.

"Buddy!" John dragged him over to the bed and laid him down, sitting beside him. Damn, Rodney looked bad. He should call Carson. He reached for the radio on his nightstand.

"Don' call [hic] anyone [hic]," Rodney slurred, flailing weakly with one hand in the direction of the radio. 

John's heart sank. "You've still got the hiccups. That's, like, jeez, _hours_ that you've had them."

"Twenty two hours [hic] to be precise [hic]. _Fuck_."

He looked exhausted. Even when he didn't try to speak, hiccups punctuated his breathing.

John frowned, worried. "I thought Carson was giving you some kind of meds to suppress them?"

"Didn' [hic] work. Nothing [hic] works."

John bit his lip as Rodney lay there looking pitiful, propped up against the headboard, hiccuping exhaustedly. It looked like the hiccups were hurting him, Rodney wincing each time one erupted. Probably they'd played hell with his diaphragm muscles, going on for hours.

John had learned about Rodney's affliction with hiccups that morning when he didn't make it to team breakfast. He'd found him in the infirmary, where he'd since been for most of the day although he'd insisted on trying to work in the labs for an hour or so until Radek sent him back to Carson. Apparently hiccups and accurate code-writing weren't compatible.

"How'd you escape from Carson?"

"Told him [hic] sleep better in m'own [hic] bed." Rodney grabbed the sleeve of John's shirt, peering up at him. "Need your [hic] help." 

"Yeah, sure, buddy," John said, although he didn't see what he could do if Carson had failed. They'd tried all the usual folk remedies earlier in the day—getting Rodney to drink water, to hold his breath, to do a headstand while drinking water—that'd been messy, and a bust. Meditating with Teyla hadn't worked, nor had sparring, or Ronon creeping up on him and jumping out with a yell. And clearly whatever drugs Carson had tried had been next to useless.

"You get any sleep yet?" John figured that was one reason Rodney looked so wiped.

"Can't." Rodney gestured angrily, hiccuping away. He squinted up at John. "Gotta [hic] help me."

"Well, sure, of course, but what can I..."

"Had this before. [hic] Grad school [hic]. Stress."

"Guess that makes sense," John said, nodding. They'd been plenty stressed lately, hiding under the cloak while three new hive ships circled the planet. "Lucky you didn't get them before now, what with all we've been through." He rubbed his jaw. "Wait...you tell Carson about that?"

Rodney looked away, then hiccuped. He exhaled, sounding irritated, then glanced back at John. He looked a little pink but John chalked that up to the exertion of endless hiccuping. "No. [hic] He'd've wanted [hic] to know what stopped them."

"Well, _yeah_. Kind of curious about that myself."

Rodney looked away, and oh, he was definitely blushing now. "Sex. [hic] Orgasms, to be [hic] precise," he muttered.

"Oh. Wow..." John felt the tips of his ears heat up.

"I can usually [hic] nip them in the bud [hic] with, you know..." he waved at his groin, then, seeing John's frown, glared and made wanking motions.

"Ah..." John rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to imagine a flushed, half-naked Rodney in his quarters, joylessly going at it, punctuated by hiccups. "No luck, huh?"

"Too [hic] far gone," Rodney said despondently. "Not enough [hic] vagal nerve [hic] stimulation from jerking off."

"Damn, buddy, I'm sorry," John said. "But I don't see how–" Rodney fixed him with a jaundiced glare. John grimaced. "Really?"

"Can't ask Teyla [hic]," Rodney muttered, and yeah, John got that. "And I'm too [hic] tramatized by Ronon now."

"Yeah...but..." John said, not meeting Rodney's eyes. It wasn't like he hadn't imagined it sometimes, when Rodney was high on science, blue eyes flashing as he explained his latest theory. Or when he took his jacket off, biceps flexing as he manhandled ancient tech, or bent over to get a multi-tool from his pack. Yeah, okay, so maybe John had thought about it more than just sometimes. "It's...a little more than, y'know, how a friend loves another friend."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "You're my best friend, and it's your [hic] turn." John raised an eyebrow at him. "To [hic] save my life," Rodney explained, wincing around another hiccup.

John hated to see Rodney distressed, but that was going a bit far. "You're not _dying_ , Rodney."

Rodney flailed a limp hand. "Carson said [hic] if they hadn't stopped by tomorrow [hic] he'd paralyze me and put me on a [hic] ventilator in a medical coma." He closed his eyes, looking drained.

"Jeez, it's that bad?" He couldn't let that happen—it'd be like putting Rodney into stasis, not knowing if he'd ever come out. "Okay," John said decisively, manning up. "How do we do this?"

Rodney opened one bloodshot eye. "They don't [hic] teach Sex-Ed in US schools?" he asked sarcastically.

John felt his ears heat up again. "No, I meant, what d'you think'll work. If jerking off wasn't enough."

"Research–" Rodney began, and John almost grinned. Typical Rodney, ever the scientist, "–has shown there's greater vagal stimulation during sex with a partner than..." he made the wanking gesture again, then colored deeply, looking away. "In addition, my personal observations suggest that, ah, penetration, has the largest effect size. For me." He glanced nervously at John, then stuck out his chin defensively. "Which the research supports! Prostate stimulation's been shown to be...effective."

"Uh..." John said, his voice strangled as he imagined Rodney on his hands and knees in John's bed, bare ass pink as John pounded away. He shifted awkwardly as his cock stirred, filling.

"Yes, yes [hic], I know," Rodney said hurriedly, waving a placating hand. "We'd need [hic] to work up to that." His flush deepened. "Um, that is, er, if this [hic] happens again, I mean." He looked defensive. "Which it well might. As you [hic] said before, we're under [hic] a lot of stress here." He looked crestfallen for a moment. "It's not my fault that in the [hic] genetic lottery you got a supercharged ATA gene and I [hic] got a citrus allergy and..." Rodney flailed at himself as another hiccup wracked him.

"I've never..." John said. "I mean, I've done, like, handjobs and blowjobs with other guys..."

Rodney rolled his eyes. It was surprising he had the energy to be sassy. "Right, the usual [hic] closeted military dance card [hic]. I get it."

"Well, it'll have to do," John said, tilting his head, eyes narrowed. "Like you said, we can work our way up to anything more...energetic."

"Oh, really?" Rodney sounded ridiculously pleased and hopeful and John couldn't help but grin at him.

He gestured at Rodney's pants. "So you better get those off, unless you want to do laundry as well."

"No, no," Rodney said, already scrambling up and unbuttoning, pushing his pants down then sitting to remove his boots and socks so as to kick his pants off. "I'll be so [hic] wiped after this [hic] I'll probably sleep for hours."

"I’ll take that as a vote of confidence," John said, undoing his own pants and toeing off his socks. He'd already taken off his boots before Rodney'd barged in. He turned to find Rodney staring at him. "What?"

"Oh, you're [hic], undressing as well," Rodney said, a little faintly.

John glared at him. "Yeah, Rodney, I tend to find that when I get someone off, it kind of puts me in the mood as well, y'know?"

"Fine, fine," Rodney said hastily. "Only [hic] if this works, well, like I said, [hic] I may not be very compos [hic] mentis afterwards. It's been [hic] an exhausting day," he added earnestly.

"Hmmm." John frowned in concentration—this required strategic thinking, his forte. "Maybe you should do me first," he suggested. "That way it'll kind of be like foreplay, make it more, ah, effective when you..." He waved a hand at Rodney's boxers. They were covered in rainbow colored equations. Eye-catching.

"Yes, yes, [hic] right," Rodney said, stripping his boxers off and staring intently at John's groin, clearly in problem-solving mode. John's cock twitched inside his own perfectly respectable blue and white striped underwear.

"I think if you..." Rodney said, shuffling along the bed and reaching out to pull John towards him. His hands curled around John's legs, thumbs stroking up and down the front of John's thighs, and John was abruptly all the way hard, tenting his boxers.

"Excellent," Rodney said smugly, then hiccuped, rather ruining the effect. He exhaled crossly, then looked up at John. His eyes were a really dark blue, John thought hazily. He kind of wanted to kiss Rodney, but that wasn't what they were here for. "My blowjob [hic] technique's a bit rusty, and it'll be [hic] interrupted." Rodney pulled an apologetic face. "But it might be like holding my [hic] breath?"

"Worth a try," John rasped, his voice hoarse, mouth suddenly dry. "I'm game."

"Yeah," Rodney said, his mouth slanting into a smirk. "Thought [hic] you might be."

He slid his hands up to the waist of John's boxers and eased them down with his thumbs inside, holding the waistband out clear of John's erection as he pulled them down. John kicked them away.

Rodney took John's cock in his left hand as though it was a karaoke mic and leaned in, licking a stripe across the head.

"Christ!" John gasped. He clutched Rodney's shoulders. It was that or pull his hair.

Rodney took the head of John's cock into his mouth and sucked gently. John tried not to dig his fingers in. Then Rodney hiccuped, making John's cock jerk into his mouth a little. A sound escaped John that was very like a whimper. Rodney groaned and John's brain briefly whited out. When he came to, Rodney was going down on him almost desperately, moaning and sometimes hiccuping, just to add variety.

It had been way too long for John and Rodney's mouth on him was incredibly good. John felt pressure building at the base of his spine. "Nuh," he tried, too far gone for actual words. He was so damn close and Rodney could probably tell, but John felt he had to warn him. "Nuh!" he gasped, more urgently, as Rodney sucked him in deeply, throat working. "Nnnuh!" John moaned. The frisson of a hiccup tipped him over the edge and he came, clutching Rodney's shoulders, knees trembling.

Rodney pulled off, making a face as he swallowed.

"Tried to warn you," John gasped, then fell onto the bed, still breathing hard, his limbs pleasantly noodly.

"Yes, yes, I realize you [hic]..." Rodney trailed off, looking disappointed.

"No luck yet, huh?" John opened one eye and squinted at him. Rodney's shoulders sloped dejectedly as he shook his head, then he jerked with another hiccup. John sighed. "Look, buddy, don't panic. It's orgasm we're aiming for, right?"

Rodney flopped back on the bed beside him, one arm over his eyes. "What if it doesn't [hic] work?" he asked anxiously. John noticed Rodney's erection was flagging as he worked himself up into a panic. Best to get on with it.

"Hey, hey, don't go all morose on me, we just gotta maintain the momentum." John scrambled down the bed and pushed Rodney's legs apart. He was half falling off the end of the stupidly small ancient bed. "Scootch up a bit." Rodney scootched, propping himself up on the pillows. John eased down on his stomach, propped on his elbows, and eyed Rodney's half-hard cock. It had been a while, but hopefully it was like riding a bicycle. He leaned in, just as Rodney hiccuped, his cock jerking. "Yeah," John said, "maybe try not to put my eye out."

"What part of in- _vol_ -untary don’t you [hic] understand?" Rodney snapped, so John just went down on him before they totally lost the mood. "Jesus fuck!" yelped Rodney, falling back and clutching the covers. He craned his head up and peered down. "What are you, a vacuum cleaner?"

His cock was firming up nicely, though, so John ignored the backseat driving and got his hand around the shaft as a precaution against hiccup-induced eye injuries, licking and sucking on the head and gradually taking Rodney deeper as his disused blowjob skills returned.

After a while, Rodney was fully hard and making satisfying little grunts and whimpers, and John was needing to lean on him to hold his hips down. The hiccuping wasn't too bad so long as he was careful with his teeth and kept things wet. John's jaw muscles were out of practice though and starting to ache, and while Rodney was clearly enjoying himself there was no sign he was close.

John remembered what Rodney had said, citing the research. He pulled off and Rodney gave a disappointed groan. "Lube - in the nightstand drawer," John panted, gesturing with his chin.

Rodney lifted his flushed face. "I thought we were [hic] working up to that," he said, eyes wide and dark. He was sweaty and breathless, and John grinned up at him, enjoying the view.

"Yeah, but you said prostate stimulation might work, right? You ever had that with a blowjob? It's pretty great."

"Oh," Rodney said, then more enthusiastically. " _Oh_." He leaned over and scrabbled around, found the lube and tossed it to John then pushed up on his elbows, biting his lip as John uncapped it and squeezed out a large dollop.

"Bend your knees up," John told him, "and spread 'em."

"Good thing you [hic] decided against OB-GYN," Rodney muttered, flopping back on the pillows but complying.

"Yeah, my dad was real broken up," John said, then decided talking about his dad while giving Rodney a blowjob was the worst idea since Smell-O-Vision. He got a good amount of lube on his finger and hunkered back down, then began stroking over Rodney's puckered asshole. Which puckered up some more and resisted his fingertip. "Gonna need to relax, Rodney."

"It's [hic] been awhile, okay?" Rodney said defensively. "Also it's been a very trying [hic] day.

John decided to get back on with the blowjob. After some maneuvering he managed to lean on his left elbow, left hand around Rodney's cock while he sucked him, his right hand teasing Rodney's asshole. It took a little while but finally Rodney unpuckered and John's finger slipped in. Rodney moaned deeply and his legs spread some more as John pushed his finger in up to the second knuckle. He sucked, bobbing his head while he finger-fucked Rodney's ass, feeling how hot and tight it was as Rodney got into it, head thrown back, groaning, his hands fisting the sheets.

Rodney was fully relaxed now and John pushed further into him and there it was, that swelling under the pad of his finger. He stroked it and Rodney quivered, stiffening and making a choked noise. Bingo. John tried to synchronise his movements, sucking Rodney in as he stroked his prostate, while Rodney writhed and panted and cursed and whined until he babbled something incoherent, his cock stiffening further, and came in John's mouth and kind of all over his chin and neck.

"Smooth," John said, sitting back and working his jaw until it stopped aching. He snagged a t-shirt off the floor and cleaned them both off.

Rodney was lying there, sprawled out, his eyes shut and his breathing slowing. John clambered back up the bed, stashed the lube and pulled up the covers. "Did it work then?" he asked hopefully.

Rodney snored.

"Guess so," John said, grinning and pushing Rodney over so as to get comfortable. He was half hard again after sucking Rodney and fingering him, but there was no way he'd be able to come this soon so he curled around Rodney's warm, solid form, basking in the satisfaction of a job well done.

Rodney's hiccups were stress-induced, he'd said. What with the Wraith, the Replicators, the Genii and random bow and arrow-wielding Pegasus locals, he was bound to get this problem again.

John yawned, drowsy and relaxed. It was just as well they'd worked out a cure, and now John thought about it, regular preventative sessions might stop the bouts altogether. He'd suggest that to Rodney in the morning.

What were friends for, after all.

\- the end -

**Author's Note:**

> [Orgasm, and prostate stimulation, as a cure for prolonged hiccups, is indeed a thing.](https://www.vox.com/2014/10/31/7086327/hiccups-rid-causes-why-cure-stop-treatment-science)


End file.
